


always waging wars

by GrayWithAnA (orphan_account)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Arguing, Breathplay, Casual Sex, Choking, Developing Relationship, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Choking (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Martial Arts, Multi, Painful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Pre-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Rough Sex, Space Sexual Mores, Threesome - F/M/M, Under-negotiated Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22458757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/GrayWithAnA
Summary: “You were really worried about him, huh?”
Relationships: Finn/Rey (Star Wars), Poe Dameron/Finn, Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey, Poe Dameron/Rey
Comments: 13
Kudos: 92





	always waging wars

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [“Apocalyptic”](https://genius.com/Halestorm-apocalyptic-lyrics) by Halestorm.
> 
> I originally just wanted to write Poe/Rey rough sex with Finn watching, but then I got drunk and emotional and here we are.
> 
> Your praise and con-crit are both cheerfully solicited.

It’s their first mission without Rey.

They finish debriefing, and Poe’s hands haven’t stopped shaking. He reeks of sweat, sharp with adrenaline and the chemical overtone of stim-packs.

Finn probably reeks, too. He’s definitely shaking. He only knows that because he can see the tremor in his hands. It’s too hard to focus on his own body. His senses are still on battle-alert, and a humming awareness of Rey’s presence in his head consumes the rest of his thoughts.

She’s sitting in Poe’s quarters, and she’s _furious_ , her anger battering at Finn from halfway across the base. Walking towards her feels like dragging his feet through mud.

“Six hours,” Rey spits as soon as they open the door. “Six _hours_ , Poe.”

Poe spits right back at her, “I was _fine_.” The room is so cramped that he’s in her face just standing there.

“We didn’t _know that_. You were on the ground, off comms—”

“I wouldn’t have been _near_ the ground if—”

Rey stands up suddenly, nose-to-nose with Poe. “Don’t put this on me; I wasn’t supposed to be there. There was a plan.”

“It wouldn’t have worked. It _wasn’t_ working.”

“So _you_ just had to dive in and—”

“ _You_ should have been there.” Finn sees Poe’s hand draw back as if in slow motion, then snap forward to catch Rey on the shoulder, nudging her back a few inches.

Rey narrows her eyes and shoves Poe back, harder. “ _You_ should have listened.” She pushes him again, hard enough that he steps back, and she steps in, following him.

When Rey lifts her hands a third time, Poe grabs for her wrists, and she promptly breaks his grip and shoves him full in the chest; this time, Finn feels the Force underlying the movement, and it’s strong enough, and the room narrow enough, that Poe’s back hits the wall when he staggers.

The impact seems to flip a switch. Poe bares his teeth and lunges for Rey, and—forty seconds to fisticuffs; that has to be a record, even for these two. Finn shuts the door and drops into the chair nearby, groaning a little in relief as he relaxes for the first time in days.

Rey and Poe working out issues with their fists is hardly new. Finn makes a habit of refereeing, because General Organa would assuredly disapprove of two of her best fighters murdering each other in a fit of pique.

Rey and Poe are close to evenly matched in hand-to-hand, so their fights are at least fun to watch; Rey has the Force, which ought to be a trump card, but Poe has an inch of height and a good twenty-five kilos on her, and—for all he makes it easy to forget sometimes—a lifetime of military training to boot. As long as he keeps a good hold on her, she can’t throw him around too much.

Indeed, Poe gets Rey in a bear hug almost immediately, pulling her hips in to overbalance her. Finn can _see_ her resisting the instinct to just knee Poe in the groin and break away. Poe seems to realize it, too, because he backs off and spins her into the wall instead.

Rey and Poe trade blows back and forth for a few moments, and Finn can feel that neither of them is pulling their punches, but they’re being careful enough where they hit, so he doesn’t stop them. Rey knocks Poe away from her and flips him against the wall using the Force; Poe puts her in a shoulder lock and rolls them back.

It really is fun to watch, all the more so because Finn knows that as soon as Rey and Poe are done, it’ll be as though the argument never happened. While they’re fighting, though, it’s a beautiful show. In testament to their mutual competence, they spar in near silence, deadly focused and never sparing the breath to react with more than the occasional quiet grunt. Neither of them is afraid to fight dirty, though Finn silently thanks Rey for apparently deciding actual below-the-belt hits to be off-limits, if only for his own comfort watching. Poe, Finn is sure, would happily dare her to do it.

Seeing Rey and Poe like this, wrapped up in each other and moving in perfect rhythm, always makes Finn wonder if they’re fucking. The Resistance has a fine tradition of casual sex among fighters, in which Finn knows firsthand Rey and Poe are cheerful participants, but they’ve never let on any involvement with each other. Half the time, Finn is certain they must be, given their easy familiarity with each other’s bodies; the rest of the time—time mostly occupied by shouting—he’s convinced it’s impossible.

There’s a violent thud as Poe tackles Rey with a shoulder to the gut, and Finn feels the fall in the _click_ of Rey’s jaw and the sudden, bruising pain in her back. Poe lands heavily on top of her, and she locks her legs around his waist and grabs at one of his shoulders. Force, she’s fast; more than a few of their fights have ended this way, with Poe evidently wagering he can pin her before she gets a hold on him and losing the wager spectacularly.

This time, though, Poe wins for the moment, evading what was probably a nasty armlock. He goes to break her guard with one knee, and Finn feels the ligaments in her hip stretch to the point of agony before she lets up. Poe straddles her thighs and leans over her, setting up an armlock of his own, and Rey—for just a second, Rey ignores him, turning her head to look Finn in the eye.

The eye contact sucks Finn fully into their bond, into her body, so he can feel her catching her breath, her pulse slowing, her muscles bunching to push against the warm weight of Poe on top of her, his erection pressing hot against her leg—

Finn blinks, and for a second he watches Rey and Poe grapple without really seeing them. He has to fight down a sharp edge of discomfort in his chest. Rey showed him that on purpose. From this position, she could throw Poe clear across the room if she wanted to. She must not mind, either because it’s a perfectly typical post-combat response, or because she’s—she’s—

—panting, throbbing, _aching_ , her underclothes sticky and clinging between her legs—

Finn shudders back into his own body, half-hard and gasping. Asked and answered. More than one question answered, even; Rey was giving him a chance to walk away if he doesn’t want to see them—well.

Finn is well aware that sex isn’t always gentle, but neither Rey nor Poe has ever so much as hinted that they want anything else, not to him. Finn thinks of Poe on his back, letting Finn fuck him slow and easy until they’re both slack-limbed and panting against each other’s lips. Or Rey straddling Finn’s face with her mouth on his cock, so that when one of them comes it sets off the Force like a plucked string, pleasure thrumming back and forth between them.

Do Rey and Poe want something else?

Or have they been doing something else all along?

Finn thinks of livid scrapes painting Rey’s body from falls in training, scratches down the length of Poe’s forearms from digging around in engines, split lips and sprained wrists and bruised cheekbones, and wonders what he’s been missing.

The sounds of more violent struggling drag Finn’s attention back to the floor, where Poe has both Rey’s hands over her head and is wrestling one leg of her pants off, the other thigh pinioned under his knee.

Finn…isn’t walking away. He isn’t sure why. He isn’t completely sure he doesn’t want to.

Poe pulls his suit open, tugging the waistband of his underwear down just enough to pull out his cock and stroke himself a few times. It’s a filthy, gorgeous picture; Rey gives Poe a dirty grin, a quick look up and down.

Then Poe moves, pinning Rey with a forearm across her chest. Finn grits his teeth and braces himself as Poe pushes into Rey all at once. She twists her head to the side, groaning through her teeth, and he starts moving immediately, viciously, the muscles of his back and thighs flexing against the suit.

The echoed pain is enough to make Finn clap a hand to his mouth to stifle a sob, legs spreading reflexively. Rey struggles, shoving Poe’s undershirt up far enough to claw down his chest, and he shudders convulsively but doesn’t slow down.

They’re pressed so tightly together that Finn almost misses Rey’s hand making its way up to rest on Poe’s neck. Poe’s reaction, though, is impossible to miss: his head drops, almost pushing his throat into her palm, and the feverish rhythm of his body skips a beat as he grinds against her. “ _Rey_ ,” he gasps.

Equally impossible to miss is the constriction in the Force. As subtle as it is, it makes Finn’s hair stand on end when he senses it, and he’s up and out of the chair without thinking. “Rey,” he says, and his voice cracks and comes out soundless. He tries again, “Rey—”

Now that Finn is focused on it, he can feel the mechanics of the choke in uncomfortable detail, and he doesn’t want to know exactly how much force will close off each of the blood vessels in Poe’s neck, he doesn’t _want_ to feel the restraint it takes to avoid crushing Poe’s trachea, he— _stars_. He drops back into his seat, legs threatening to give out.

A flicker of motion catches Finn’s eye. Poe is shifting to brace himself with both hands on the ground, and one of his hands forms the sign for _all clear_ , even though Rey’s grip on the Force is still steadily tightening and Poe’s breath is starting to rasp in his throat.

A few more moments stretch out, and then Poe’s hips jerk and stutter into Rey’s body and he groans, the noise coming out tight and thin. She squeezes a fraction tighter, and Poe’s groan bursts into shallow, desperate panting before he comes with a shattered sigh, going half-limp on top of her.

The Force never releases, and Rey’s hand doesn’t move from Poe’s throat, but after a few seconds, Poe sits back and resettles himself, knees on either side of one of her thighs, and reaches down to cup between her legs. She hisses, hips bucking, and Finn feels her hold closing a little further. The phantom sensation of Poe’s fingers entering her, slick and sore, disorients Finn for a moment.

Rey rakes her nails down Poe’s chest again, digging in and clutching at his hip as she rocks herself against his palm. Finn can feel how close she is, making his pulse throb in his groin, and he can feel her still grasping Poe’s throat tighter and tighter as he winds her up; it’s enough that Poe’s face is going red, his eyes not quite focused. Finn finds himself on his feet again, stomach in knots as he watches them.

Rey gives a shuddering gasp as she starts to come, back bowing, and her grip on the Force slams tight. Poe convulses over her, his next breath never arriving; his eyes are wide, his face now rapidly purpling, free hand flying up to his neck. Rey is shaking apart under him, breathing in little gasps and whimpers. Finn wonders, yet again, if he ought to intervene, but her voice in his head, calmly ticking off the seconds, stops him; of course she knows exactly how far she can push.

The moment her count hits ten, the choke releases and she rolls Poe off of her, leaning over him on one elbow. He inhales a huge, whooping breath, coughs, inhales again. The look on his face is pure ecstasy, so sincere Finn feels guilty to see it; this time, his legs really do give out, dropping him to his knees beside them.

For a minute, all three of them just breathe.

“Stars,” Poe says finally, voice scratchy, and pushes himself up to sitting. He looks at Finn, and Finn is seized by a desire to—apologize, maybe, for watching, or for wanting to stop them, or for not stopping them, or for something he doesn’t understand, can’t put into words. Poe doesn’t quite manage a smile as he meets Finn’s gaze. “Sorry we scared you, buddy.”

Finn only nods. Poe’s suit is unzipped inelegantly to his crotch, his undershirt rucked up under his arms, revealing stark, bleeding scratches down his chest.

There’s an undeniable bruise over his throat. Finn can’t look at it.

“Can I—” Finn starts, and realizes he doesn’t know what to ask for. He’s surprised to find tears pricking his eyes.

“What do you want?” Rey asks, soft and earnest.

Finn reaches for Poe’s hand, the hand Poe had inside Rey, still wet all over, shiny with it. He bends to kiss Poe’s palm—Poe exhales sharply, stiffens—then grips Poe’s wrist and takes one of Poe’s fingers in his mouth, sucking it carefully clean. He moves to the next finger, breath sticking in his throat, and suddenly his brain catches up to where his body has been this whole time and he’s desperate for this, for them. He can’t restrain a whimper.

“ _Force_ , Finn,” Poe says, raw, and Finn’s on the ground with both of them, and he’s fully dressed, and they’re both sweat-soaked and spent and staring at him, and he’s been hard for so long that it burns.

“Sorry,” Finn mutters, finally, and knows immediately he isn’t apologizing for the right thing.

“No,” Rey says. “Come here.” He lets her pull him away, guiding his head between her sprawled legs, and gives an embarrassing little gasp when he realizes what she’s getting at.

Her skin is hot and so, so soft against his tongue. He starts by licking the sweat and slickness off her thighs, and even that is enough to make his fingers curl desperately against the floor. Poe’s breathing is audible next to him, raspy, and Poe has already seen Finn, all of him, but somehow blood still rises to Finn’s cheeks at the thought of being watched doing this.

Finn brushes his lips over the crease of Rey’s hip, listening to her breathing instead, quiet and controlled. He turns his head to run his tongue up the soft outer folds of her cunt, moving as slowly as he can, so gentle he quakes with restraint.

Rey shivers with every touch, no matter how light, and one of her palms comes to rest on Finn’s shoulder. When he looks up at her, she raises an eyebrow and nudges him gently downwards. He pulls back a little, breathing out, “ _Rey_.”

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

In the corner of his vision, Finn can see Poe looking back and forth between them, and Finn’s eyes sting again, relief and humiliation mingling at the realization that Rey can see right through him, always can. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, it is.”

He leans in, pressing a little firmer to slide the tip of his tongue into her and lick up the drip of Poe’s come where it’s slowly leaking down. She makes a high, hurt little noise, and he groans deep in his chest; at his side, Poe swears hoarsely.

Some animal part of Finn is already purring contentment. The idea of soothing Rey like this, cleaning her, is appealing on a level he can’t even articulate. He pushes his tongue deeper into her and slides it slowly back out, tasting more of Poe’s come with every movement, and just that is enough to make him pant against her skin, half-formed words falling from his mouth.

Finn loses time like that, open mouth pressed into Rey’s flesh, lips and tongue working her over with as much tenderness as he can manage, Rey’s hands running lightly over his back. He thinks his awareness might flicker between his body and hers, but they’re both so relaxed that it’s hard to be sure.

After a brief eternity, Rey murmurs something and pushes him back. Finn, foggy-minded, doesn’t have time to wonder before Poe is working Finn’s pants open and wrapping a hand around his cock. Poe’s palm is dry and callused, the angle is awkward, and Finn can scarcely rock back and forth into Poe’s grip, but it doesn’t matter. He barely has time to groan, “Force, _please_ —,” before he’s coming, eyes squeezed shut, fingers digging bruises into Rey’s thighs.

When Finn opens his eyes, there are tears in them, and he blinks hurriedly to clear them. He takes a shaky breath and sits back.

“All right?” Poe asks. Rey is watching them both, calm and curious, sprawled out like a tooka in the sun and looking just as contented.

“Yeah,” Finn says, and he finds himself smiling, all his anxieties, large and small, wiped clean in the moment. Poe breaks into a grin, like the sun rising, and stands up, crossing to his desk. He lights a stick of the sweet, dark Yavinian incense that Finn has watched him trade for and yet never seen him burn. “Special occasion?” Finn asks, as the smoke begins to curl into the room.

“Coming home safe,” Poe answers, and there’s more behind the words, but Finn doesn’t push.

Poe ducks into the refresher and tosses a damp cloth out at Finn. Finn turns to Rey and doesn’t even have to ask before she’s nodding. He presses the cool cloth to her skin to wipe her down, and she makes a quiet, happy humming noise and stretches leisurely under his hands.

With Poe still in the ‘fresher, Finn can’t resist remarking, “You were really worried about him, huh?”

Rey shoves at his shoulder. “Don’t you start.” She hops to her feet, stretching again and rubbing tension out of her neck. “Is the mess hall open?”

Finn stands up after her, still smiling. It’s something new, all three of them together, and clearly there are some conversations they need to have, but there’s a warmth to it that he thinks could turn into something else entirely, given time.

Even if it’s only this, though—well, this is nice, all on its own.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments fuel more filth and nonsense like this. Feed me.


End file.
